Powder and Paddles
by alsoalphafairy
Summary: Actions have consequences, especially in the Stilinski household. Stiles knew it. Scott knew it. Isaac was about to find out. The Sheriff takes underage drinking very seriously and they've just been caught red handed. Warning: Contains disciplinary spanking of three teenage boys by a parental figure. Flames will be ignored.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf.**

 **A/N:** In this series of stories I'm working on the Sheriff found out about the supernatural at the end of Series 2. Anything past that is probably AU, but mostly it'll be aside works that have no actual baring on the canon plots.

* * *

Things in Beacon Hills were quiet, almost too quiet. But rather than viewing that fact with a very suspicious side-eye, the gang was relishing in the break. The fact that this coincided with Winter break was just icing on the cake. Nobody wanted to be chasing enchanted spider-monkeys when they could be kicking back with the xbox, playing call of duty. Which was exactly what Isaac, Scott and Stiles were doing.

Melissa was working the night shift and the Sheriff was giving evidence in court and would be staying the night out of town. So what better time to take advantage of the Stilinski's wide-screen?

It was early evening when it all turned to shit. It started, as it nearly always does, with Stiles.

"Hey, so did you guys know that there _is_ a way for werewolves to get drunk, and I have that way right in here." Stiles lifted a little baggy filled with purple powder out of his school bag. "Who's in?"

Scott shook his head and returned to their abandoned game. "I guess you forgot what happened the last time we got caught drinking?"

Stiles scrunched up his nose. "Yeah but my Dad is out of town and I've got these." He reached back into his bag and bought out a six pack of cheap beer.

Scott yelped. "Are you crazy?!"

"Don't be such a dramawolf, Scott! It's foolproof. We got into trouble last time because he realized we had stolen from his cabinet, but this time Dad won't see anything missing and we won't leave any evidence - he'll never know!"

Scott frowned, weighing up the risk.

Isaac thought it was a good time to ask what the powdery stuff was.

"Wolfsbane." Replied Stiles.

Isaac recoiled.

Stiles flailed his arms around. "No! It's _special_ wolfsbane, I got it from Deaton. It does something to your metabolism or whatever, makes you susceptible to alcohol and other illicit substances." He finished in a bad imitation of Deaton's voice.

"And why do we want to get drunk so badly?" Isaac asked.

"You're a sixteen year old male werewolf who has never been drunk." Stiles deadpanned.

"Fair point." He nodded, popping the tab of one of the beers. Scott went pale as Isaac opened another can and thrust it into Scott's hand and grabbed some dust. "What do we do now?"

A couple of hours later the trio were thoroughly buzzed and starting on their second six pack. They had moved onto Assassin's creed and were debating whether or not to order a pizza when they heard it. Or rather, when Scott heard it. He paused the game. "Was that your Dad's cruiser?"

"What? No! Couldn't be." Stiles fumbled away from the landline and looked out the window. He withdrew immediately, yelping. "Oh my God! Hide it, hide all of it!"

Scott ran around gathering debris and hiding it in random crevices in the kitchen as Stiles tried to position himself casually over the phone. Isaac watched all of this from the couch with a mixture of amusement and apprehension as the Sheriff opened the front door.

He paused in the doorway, evaluating the scene before him. "Stiles, Isaac." Stiles gave his Dad a dude nod and Isaac waved, stuck to the spot. Scott scrambled in from the kitchen and skid to a stop by the couch. "Scott."

"Hi, Sheriff." He replied eyes flickering guiltily to the alcohol cabinet in the corner.

The Sheriff followed Scott's gaze and his eyes narrowed. He suspected something, Isaac could tell. He had a sixth sense for suspicious parents.

"Dad?" Stiles said, diverting the Sheriff's attention. "You're home early."

"The defendant took a plea deal, my testimony wasn't necessary so I thought I'd surprise you with dinner. I've got curly fries." He held up a take away bag. "But unfortunately I forgot that Isaac and Scott were coming around and I don't have enough for everybody. You call up the Burger Grill for a delivery and I'll put these in the oven."

Scott squeaked and snatched for the bag. "I'll do it!"

The Sheriff held the bag just out of reach, smelling a rat. "I'll do it, Scott. You sit down with Stiles and Isaac and carry on with your game." He went through into the kitchen and Scott paled.

"Oh crap."

"What?" Hissed Stiles.

"I hid the empties in the oven." Moaned Scott.

"You idiot!"

None of them felt very good anymore. The buzz had worn off in the shock of the Sheriff turning up early and they were all queasy for when the Sheriff would realize they had been drinking behind his back. The trio waited nervously for their fates to be sealed.

The Sheriff came back in, holding a twisted can between his fingers. "Any explanations?"

They shook their heads. Isaac felt nervous. Not nervous of the Sheriff, he knew the man and he knew he wasn't anything like his Father was. He'd never take his anger out on his kid. No, he was nervous at how anxious Scott and Stiles were.

The Sheriff sighed heavily. "Corners now. All of you."

Stiles and Scott moved immediately, making their way to opposite corners of the room. "Wait what?" Isaac was, quite naturally, confused.

Stiles paused, blushing as he always does at being put in the corner like a five year old and looked at Isaac as if only just remembering that Isaac was there. "Dad can I take Issac home? He needs to go home. Like now."

The Sheriff shook his head. "No kid, you know the rules. You should of told Isaac before breaking them."

Stiles groaned and hid his face in the corner.

The Sheriff motioned for Isaac to stand up and he walked him to the last free corner in the room. Isaac sensed that it would be unwise to argue that he was too old to stand in the corner. The Sheriff put his hand on Isaac's shoulder and explained. "Stiles should have told you this, but in my house there are rules and - I don't care who you are - when you break them, you get spanked."

"What?" Isaac yelped as Scott thunked his head against the wall.

"Actions have consequences, Isaac. And in my house that's a spanking." The Sheriff paused. "Who are you living with now?"

"The McCalls, sir."

"Good. That's settled then." He turned Isaac until his nose was in the corner and went to the couch. He turned off the TV and paused again, realising something. "This isn't my beer, where did you get these?"

No one spoke. "Well I think it's safe to say that this beer was probably bought with a fake ID, so if nobody wants to come forward and tell the truth then I guess I'll have to punish you all for having one, just to be on the safe side."

Stiles groaned again. "It was me."

The Sheriff groaned too. "I am disappointed yet also unsurprised to hear that." He pinched the bridge of his nose, as if developing a headache.

Isaac subtly scented the room through his teeth. Scott was feeling as guilty as he was at disappointing the Sheriff, and apprehensive at the thought of a spanking; but Stiles was absolutely miserable. The Sheriff himself seemed pretty disappointed at being disappointed.

The Sheriff headed towards the stairs. "I'm going to get changed and have a shower. Don't leave your corners, no talking, and we'll have a chat about your actions when I get back."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** **I do not own Teen Wolf, I do not profit from this story.**

* * *

It only took a few minutes for Stiles to start fidgeting.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this again." Moaned Scott. "I'm never going to be able to sit down."

" _I_ can't believe you guys didn't tell me I'd get spanked for breaking the Sheriff's rules! This is information I needed to know!"

"I'm sorry, okay? I didn't think he'd be home, it should have been fool-proof! Besides, I don't know what you two are complaining about, you're werewolves, you'll be all healed up in a couple of hours like it never happened." Stiles hissed back. "What's he doing now?"

Scott cocked his head to have a listen and paled. "He's looking in the hall closet."

Stiles thunked his head against the wall. "Crap. He's getting the paddle."

Even Isaac gulped. "I take it that's bad?"

"Very." Moaned Scott.

They all returned their attention to the wallpaper when they heard the Sheriff on the stairs.

The Sheriff, freshly showered and wearing a fresh shirt, paddle in hand, paused in the doorway, looking at the three contrite teenagers and deciding how best to get things done. Stiles he would have to do straight away, before he kicks up a bit of a fuss and earns himself a couple of extra licks - despite what his son sometimes thinks, he doesn't actually enjoy punishing him. If Isaac kicks up a fuss too he might need Scott to help out. He didn't think Isaac would try to pull a stunt, but it might be safer to do him next. He'd see how it goes. "Alright you three. Couch, now."

The Sheriff grabbed a dining room chair as the trio scrambled to obey. He placed it down with an ominous thud in front of them and took a seat. He rested the paddle - an oval, thick evil looking thing, about the span of the Sheriff's hand - on his lap. He looked each of them in the eye and received three anxious stares back. A little intimidation in these sorts of situations never hurt. "Lets see how much of this situation I've got right." He pointed to his son and then the other boys. "Stiles used a fake ID to purchase alcohol and you've all been drinking while you thought me and Melissa were at work. Am I right?"

He waited until he heard three 'yes, sir's before continuing. "Scott, Isaac, neither of you can even get drunk, so why participate?"

"Stiles gave us some special powder he got from Deaton that helped us get drunk." Scott didn't dare mention that that powder was wolfsbane.

The Sheriff sighed heavily. "That's just great."

"Sorry, sir."

"Oh you will be, Scott. Have no doubt about that. I don't think I need to tell any of you what you've done wrong."

"No, sir."

"Then Stiles, you're up first."

Stiles groaned then shuffled up to his Dad.

"Go get me that ID you used."

"Yes sir." Stiles retrieved it from his backpack and handed it over.

"You thought you could pass for twenty three?"

"Well it's worked before." The Sheriff raised his eyebrows and Stiles realized what he had said. "What I mean is - "

"Yeah I know what you mean." The Sheriff interrupted. "And when we're done here you're going to write me out a list of every place that has accepted that ID."

"Yes sir."

"You know what to do son."

Stiles blushed, avoiding Scott and Isaac's eyes as he lowered his jeans and boxers and was guided over the Sheriff's knee. He squirmed around, trying to get comfortable and the Sheriff gave him a sharp slap to his thigh. Stiles yelped.

"Settle down." The Sheriff twisted his arm around his son's waist, securing him, and dangled the paddle over Stiles' shoulder for him to take. "Hold this for me."

"How many am I getting?"

"Twenty."

"Twenty!" Stiles squeaked. "Why twenty?"

"Ten for drinking - _again._ This is the second time this year I've caught you - and ten for not only having a fake ID, but usingit too."

Stiles groan turned into a yelp as the Sheriff started laying down a volley of smack with his hand. Stiles flailed his arms until he took a grip on the legs of the chair. He resolved not to make anymore noise. He was used to being spanked in front of Scott, and vice versa, but it was just weird in front of Isaac. He felt like he had something to prove.

"I am incredibly disappointed in your choices today." The Sheriff lectured, keeping up with the spanks as he spoke. "I thought we had moved past deceit, that I could trust you. Clearly that thought was premature."

Stiles bit back a whimper. That stung. He wanted his Dad to trust him, but all he's given him is more reasons _not_ too. He felt so stupid.

"Well, hopefully this will get through to you instead." The Sheriff switched his attention from Stiles' reddening ass to his thighs.

Stiles let out a small keen, curling his toes into the carpet to stop from kicking out. He didn't know how much longer he could take it without reacting.

The Sheriff made certain to spank every inch of Stiles' ass, from the top right down to the mid-thighs.

Stiles gave up on stoicism. Strong and silent? Really not his style. He no longer cared that he was being watched, he just wanted the pain to stop. His ass was on fire and his Dad was concentrating on Stiles' sit spots and thighs. "Ow, ow, OW!" He squirmed around and bucked, trying to get out of range, but his Dad held tight.

"Stop that!" The Sheriff scolded.

"I'm trying!" Stiles managed to hold his torso still, but started kicking frantically at the carpet, like he was trying to river dance.

The Sheriff put a stop to that by pulling Stiles further across his lap, until he was lying only over the Sheriff's left leg, and lined his right leg taut over his son's ankles.

Tears were starting to silently stream from Stiles' eyes when the Sheriff stopped. He gave Stiles a minute to calm down before asking from the paddle.

"You could just not - "

"Now, Stiles."

Stiles whimpered and handed over the paddle.

The Sheriff gave Stiles a reassuring pat on the back, then slipped back into disciplinarian mode. "You're getting twenty, Stiles. You don't have to count them, but I want you to think about why you're in this situation and how to avoid it again."

The Sheriff waited until he heard a hitched 'yes, sir' before beginning. He had thought about returning Stiles to his original position over both the Sheriff's leg, but decided it might be safer to keep Stiles' legs restrained. There had been a couple of incidents that had almost resulted in the Sheriff getting kicked in the head. When it came to avoiding a spanking, he had an abnormally dexterous son.

The Sheriff flicked the paddle down with an unmistakable crack and Stiles head shot up with a yell. A paddling on an freshly spanked bottom. A combination from hell for the recipient and he damn well let his Dad know that.

CRACK!

"AH-OW!" Stiles started squirming again.

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

Stiles twisted, yelled and groaned, to no avail. The paddle methodically found it's target each time, equally spaced with a few seconds between each lick, so they could be felt to maximum effect.

By the tenth CRACK! Stiles was openly sobbing. The Sheriff waited a couple of moments for him to collect himself before continuing.

CRACK!

CRACK!

"OW, PLEASE!"

CRACK!

"PLEASE, DAD! I CAN'T!"

CRACK!

The fifteenth lick had to be done again after Stiles desperately swung his arm around to protect his bum from further attack. The Sheriff swiftly pinned Stiles arm down to the small of his back and resumed paddling.

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

Stiles bucked, twisted and begged in vain when the Sheriff rapidly deposited the last five licks, one after the other, directly to Stiles' sit spot.

Stiles lay over his Dad's lap, relinquishing his death grip on the chair leg and sobbing as the Sheriff rubbed circles over his son's back, letting him cry it out.

It took a few minutes for Stiles to get control of his sobs and for the tears to slow down.

He maneuvered off his Dad's lap and, at his instruction, slowly made his way to the corner, speed impeded by the jeans around his knees. He was too exhausted to be embarrassed about having to walk passed Scott and Isaac to get to his corner.

He thunked his head against the wall, red ass on display.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf. I do not profit from this story.**

* * *

The Sheriff turned back to the two boys on the couch, evaluating. Scott and Isaac gulped.

"Scott, you're up."

Scott whimpered and moved to the Sheriff's side, quickly baring his bottom and throwing himself over the Sheriff's lap.

The Sheriff maneuvered him so he had better access and handed the paddle over to Scott, who took it with a small "I'm sorry".

"I know you are, kid." The Sheriff had replied with a solid smack to the centre of Scott's butt.

Scott gasped and Isaac winced, deciding to closely examine his shoes instead. He had changed his mind, he was definitely afraid of the Sheriff, and his paddle. The man clearly had a fearsome right swing.

"But you still made a very stupid decision today and I gotta tell you, I'm disappointed. And I'm sure your Mom's going to be disappointed as well." The Sheriff continued spanking at a steady pace as he talked. When Scott's ass turned a rosy pink the Sheriff ramped up the tempo.

Scott's resulting whine was thoroughly canine. He hadn't thought about what his Mom would think if she found out. She'd been so disappointed last time that she had given Scott a spanking herself over his recently strapped bottom, even though, historically, she only ever spanked when the Sheriff wasn't around to deal with it. He'd promised her that he would _never_ put her in a position to do that again. He balled his fists on the floor, guilt racking his stomach and tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.

The Sheriff spanked Scott's ass until it was a dusty pink before suddenly assaulting his thighs.

Scott jerked and let out a strangled groan. The pain was intense. He felt bad inside and out and just wanted it to be over, but with the paddle only inches away from his head he knew he still had a long way to go.

He yelped and grabbed the Sheriff's calf when he focused on the crease between Scott's ass and thighs. The tears began to fall.

The Sheriff stopped just as suddenly as he had started and rubbed Scott's back for a minute while the tears slowed. Then he asked for the paddle.

Scott whined again and handed it over. "Please don't, I'll never drink again. I _promise._ " He begged as he felt the cool wood of the paddle against his right butt cheek.

"Sorry kiddo. That's what you said last time, and yet here we are. You're getting ten, count them, and I don't want to ever catch you drinking again." The Sheriff bought the paddle down with a snap and Scott almost jerked right off his lap.

"Yes, sir. OW! That's one, sir."

CRACK!

"Two, sir."

CRACK!

"Ow, ow, three, sir."

CRACK!

"Four, sir. Please, I'm so sorry!" Scott cried openly.

CRACK!

"Five, sir!" He glared at the floor, trying not to squirm or unsheathe his claws.

"Six, sir. Please." And failing.

"Seven. Oh God."

"Try and stay still, Scott."

" _I am trying!"_

CRACK!

"Eight!" Scott barked. His limbs trembled with his effort to stay still.

"Nine." He groaned, kicking out accidentally. The Sheriff let it slide.

CRACK!

"Ten." Scott said thickly. "Ten, ten, ten." He released his grip on the Sheriff's leg and sobbed loudly.

The Sheriff rubbed Scott's back, letting him get it all out of his system.

When Scott had everything back under control he disentangled himself from the Sheriff's lap and made his way to his corner without prompting.

He flopped against the wall, still wiping his eyes and started subtly bouncing on the heels of his feet to alleviate the pain.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf.**

* * *

The Sheriff turned back to Isaac, who suddenly felt very alone on the Stilinski's couch. "Have you ever been spanked before, Isaac?" The Sheriff asked, almost gently.

"My Mom used to, when I was really, _really_ little. I don't think you can count anything my Dad did as a sp- as like that." Isaac gestured vaguely at the Sheriff's lap, unable to say the horrible S word now that his ass was on the chopping block.

The Sheriff winced but nodded, and motioned for Isaac to come to him.

Isaac walked over as slowly as he dared, with his heart in his mouth.

"You've seen what to do, son. Jeans and boxers down to your knees."

Isaac blushed, mortified, and checked that Stiles and Scott were still occupied in their corners. Stiles was rubbing his ass and Scott sighed heavily, with his head in his arms. The Sheriff followed Isaac's gaze. "They don't care what's going on over here, they're more concerned with their own sore backsides."

Isaac followed the Sheriff's instructions as slowly as he could get away with. As soon as Isaac had pulled down his boxers to meet his jeans, the Sheriff took a firm hold of Isaac's wrist and wasted no time pulling him firmly over the Sheriff's lap. Isaac felt the Sheriff's arm wrap around him, locking him in place, and felt the paddle skim over his shoulder. He took it and placed it on the ground by the Sheriff's leg.

The force of the first slap shocked him and he subconsciously grabbed hold of the Sheriff's calf.

The Sheriff methodically painted Isaac's ass and thighs a light pink before speaking. "Isaac, I gotta tell you, I am shocked to find you're a part of this. I expected better of you. I trusted you to act appropriately in my house and you broke my trust."

Isaac gasped as the smacks kept falling. It hurt that the Sheriff was so upset with him. The man had been nothing but nice to Isaac and how had he chosen to repay the Sheriff? By throwing it back in his face. Isaac was so angry with himself.

"You broke Melissa's trust too." The Sheriff continued. "And I get that you haven't had a lot of role models, but kid I'll tell you now, if you're going to be friends with my boy I have no qualms about convincing you to fly straight." The Sheriff emphasized this statement by focusing on Isaac's thighs.

"I'm sorry!" Isaac growled desperately, tears pricking at his eyes as the Sheriff abruptly stopped spanking.

"I know, I know." The Sheriff soothed, rubbing Isaac's back.

Isaac would have felt more comforted if he didn't know what was coming next. He took a couple of shaky breaths and, sure enough, the Sheriff asked for the paddle. Isaac breathed deeply and regretted it - smelling Stiles and Scott's pain caused by the torture device in his hand did nothing to quell his anxiety. He handed it up to the Sheriff's waiting hand and held his breath.

The Sheriff took the paddle and waited until Isaac started breathing again before speaking. "I don't ever want to see you in this position again, Isaac. You're getting five, you're going to count them. If you miss the count, or seriously try to avoid a lick, then that lick doesn't count. Okay?"

"Yes, sir." Isaac took a fresh grip on the Sheriff's leg and the Sheriff began.

CRACK!

The pain was intense and horribly localized to Isaac's right sit spot. After a second Isaac regained his breath and the sting changed to a deep throb. _Jeeze, it felt like a demon was trying to claw out of his ass cheek!_ "O-one, sir."

CRACK!

"Two, sir." Isaac hung his head.

CRACK!

And his head jerked right back up again. "Three! Three, sir!"

CRACK!

"Four. Sheriff - "

"Almost done, Isaac."

CRACK!

"Five, sir. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, please." Isaac didn't realize he was crying until the sobs started wracking his body.

The Sheriff was rubbing his back and telling him comforting things that he couldn't quite hear in that moment. The horrible, heavy feeling in his stomach had dissipated, but his ass was on fire and he would never be able to sit down again. He was in agony and kind of relieved - it was a little confusing.

It took what felt like a really long time, but was probably only a few minutes for the tears to slow. He pulled himself up and followed the Sheriff's instruction to stand in his corner.

He leaned against the wall, folding his arms around himself and hoping there wouldn't be a round two.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf.**

* * *

The Sheriff looked at the three miserable boys in their corners, all sniffling to various degrees, and wondered just how his evening had turned out like this. It seemed there were still more threats to his boys than just the supernatural. He'd have to keep a weather eye out.

He put the chair back under the dining room table and stepped up to Stiles. "Son."

Stiles immediately pulled up his boxers and carefully shimmied off his jeans - he wouldn't be needing them anytime soon. He turned and embraced his Dad. "I'm sorry, Daddy." Stiles whispered into the Sheriff's ear.

"You're forgiven, kid. Just don't let me catch you again."

"Well, I won't let you _catch_ us."

The Sheriff pretended to aim a swat at his son's ass.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Dad!" Stiles maneuvered himself out of aim.

"Just keep that in mind next time you feel tempted to break the law. Your butt will always pay the price while you're under my roof."

"I get it, Dad. Trust me." Stiles rubbed his ass ruefully.

"I'm glad, now go get ready for bed."

Stiles saluted the Sheriff and slowly ascended the stairs, wincing.

"Scott."

Scott yanked up his boxers and jeans as quick as he dared and dived into the Sheriff's open arms. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

The Sheriff gently shushed him. "You're forgiven, Scott."

"Are you going to tell my Mom?"

"You betcha."

Scott groaned into the Sheriff's shoulder.

"Hey, you can't say you don't deserve it, kid. You make stupid decisions, you get the consequences.

"I know." Scott groaned.

"Alright then, upstairs with you."

Scott shuffled out of sight and the Sheriff turned to Isaac. The kid was still hiccupping and clearly needed another couple of minutes, so he went into the kitchen and flicked on the oven with the take away still inside. He put a call into the Burger Grill since it was unlikely that Stiles did when the Sheriff asked and ordered a delivery.

He returned to the living room and called Isaac out of his corner, reminding him to pull up his bottoms before he came out in case he didn't catch on from Scott and Stiles.

Isaac winced as he pulled up his boxers and jeans and turned to stand just out of the Sheriff's reach.

The Sheriff noticed and closed the gap, pulling Isaac into a hug. The kid froze for a second before relaxing into it and wrapping his arms around the Sheriff.

"I'm sorry." Isaac had to make sure the Sheriff knew. "I'm sorry, I'm _really_ sorry. It'll never happen again."

"I know, kid. I know. And you're forgiven." The Sheriff replied. "Because you know where you'll be if it happens again? Right back over my knee. I meant what I said - you're part of the family now, and I have no trouble keeping up with a werewolf, if that werewolf can't keep out of trouble himself." The Sheriff felt Isaac sob into his shoulder and pulled him over to the couch. He sat down and moved Isaac until he was sitting in the Sheriff's lap.

The Sheriff was well accustomed to this position, having comforted Stiles and Scott countless times after a spanking. It didn't matter how old his kids were, if they needed some snuggle time, they got it.

Isaac managed to pull himself together and blushed when he realized he was sitting in the Sheriff's lap like a little kid, he tried to get up.

The Sheriff quickly put a stop to that nonsense and Isaac relaxed back into the Sheriff's hold, enjoying the attention. Not that he would ever tell anyone . . . but if Scott had recently been in this position as the Sheriff had confided, then clearly it wasn't that big of a deal. He still wasn't going to tell anybody.

"You alright, kid?"

"Yeah, sorry, I just - "

"You don't need a reason to have a hug."

"Hugs are for babies. That's what my Dad used to say. After - after my Mom died."

The Sheriff frowned and made a silent note to make sure Isaac had access to all the hugs he could ever want. He replied, "Son, I don't think your Father was the best person to go to for parental advice."

Isaac chuckled sadly. "I still miss him. I know that makes me sick, or something. But I do."

"It doesn't make you sick, Isaac." The Sheriff soothed. "It makes you human. He was family. He was a horrible person, but he was yours. You're allowed to grieve."

Isaac nodded, accepting this and moved to get off the Sheriff's lap.

The Sheriff let him, and watched him head upstairs. It was progress.

He sighed heavily. He would call Melissa tomorrow, but the Sheriff still had one more call to make. He needed to find out from Deaton if the werewolves' special drinking powder would effect how quickly they would recover from a spanking, and why the hell he thought it was a good idea to give some to a band of teenagers.

Twenty minutes later, the burgers had arrived and the Sheriff had his answer from the Dodgy Veterinarian (who assured him that his days of dealing recreationally to his son were definitely over).

He went upstairs to give the boys the bad news.


End file.
